The Limits of Love and Mortality
by Classy Venus
Summary: Typhus is what does him in, but Alphonse Elric just can't let his brother die like that. After yet another run-in with The Gate of Truth, he succeeds in bringing Edward back but, of course, there is a cost. Every evening, he dies again. Every morning, he rises with the sun. Eventual Roy/Ed. Character death(s). Rating subject to change.


Dark.

The room was dark. A heavy curtain made from a thick fabric covered the single window in the room, blocking out any natural light that would have come through. The room was sparsely furnished, a simple dresser and bed placed together by the shrouded window. The occupant of the bed slept fitfully, brow furrowed until the skin on the forehead creased and wrinkled, highlighting sunken eye sockets and cheekbones. Dull, chapped lips were parted to allow shallow, raspy breaths to pass through. All around the figure were thick, heavy blankets that weighed down on the chest, already burdened by the effort of breathing. In spite of this, the person shivered intermittently, his pale, clammy skin slick with a sheen of sweat.

Sick.

He was deathly sick. A fever that would not come down. Coughs that kept him up all hours of the day and night. A failing heartbeat that fluttered and fluxed. Intense pain in his head that kept him in a constant state of agony. Most of the time, he was unaware of his surroundings. In those rare moments when he was alert, he could not even recognize his own brother, his caretaker. This delirium was joined by fits of stupor, leaving him unable to do anything but lie in pain and feel his body break down on him.

A sliver of light pierced the stillness of the room as another man slipped in, mindful to quickly shut the door to keep the offending light out. As he crossed the room to the bedside, his fingertips brushed the surface of the dresser, activating an array which caused a single candle, standing in the center of the runes, to feebly spark to life. Its glow was so dim that it barely did more than change the room from pitch black to stone gray. The figure in the bed gave a twitch of his eyelids, the only sign that he had noticed a change at all.

"Brother," the healthy man murmured, kneeling by the sick man and brushing his knuckles across a protruding cheekbone, now looking even more prominent in the weak light.

The sick man's lips twitched open a little farther, and a wheezing breath escaped. He put his tongue behind his front teeth, inhaled shakily, and forced out the ghost of a name.

Al.

"Brother," he repeated softly, pressing his fingertips gently to the sensitive skin beneath his brother's ear and rubbing a small circle into the skin, cold and wet with fever.

Typhus had hit Alphonse's brother like a shot in the dark. He had just returned from a campaign that had taken him all the way from the Central City to the northwestern border. The Fuhrer had called specifically for the aid of the Fullmetal Alchemist to lead a brigade in a skirmish with the neighboring military state of Drachma. Fights breaking out on Amestris' border with Drachma were frequent, and the team had been confident. Victory came easily, and the soldiers returned to their homes within a few days.

Most of them died the following week. Edward was the last of his brigade left – almost three thousand men dead - and the military doctor that had treated them all did not anticipate the alchemist living through the next night. Well-wishers had been through all afternoon, and the few that had been let through had not been allowed an overly lengthy visit. The disease needed to be contained, so extreme caution had been exercised. Only Alphonse was allowed to attend to his dying brother.

A quiet knock on the door broke the stillness. Alphonse mumbled for the visitor to enter, eyes never straying from his brother's pained expression, his clenched jaw, his matted bangs.

General Mustang knelt down next to the boy, eyes fixed on his subordinate, his prodigal pupil, the Fullmetal Alchemist. He said nothing, merely knelt there next to the bed. Eventually, Alphonse let his gaze slip from his brother and up to the General. Even in the low light, Alphonse could make out the broken look on the other man's face, so similar to his own. General Mustang made it clear that he thought of the younger Elric brother like a son, but Edward had always been special to him. When those two were in the same room, it was like fireworks were going off. Everything was loud and fast and colorful, the air practically crackling with sarcastic wit and banter gone out of control. Now, though, that was all gone. The energy that had once radiated from Edward was gone, leaving nothing for Mustang's to react with. He seemed so fragile, so broken, kneeling next to his subordinate. His Edward.

"May I?" Mustang asked quietly, voice tight and hesitant.

Alphonse inclined his head in reply. A second later he was holding his breath, staring in wide-eyed wonder as the General leaned forward and pressed his lips to Edward's forehead. The tenderness of the action, so unlike the military man, struck a chord within Alphonse, and tears that had been held at bay all day now sprung silently to his eyes. He watched on as the General smoothed Edward's dirty blond hair away from his face, ashen and still. He pressed another kiss to the bridge of the man's nose. Edward made a small noise, a tiny whimper of acknowledgment. Gloved fingers traced the shell of Edward's ears before those large hands cupped his whole jaw carefully and Mustang's lips touched Edward's. It was the most painful thing Alphonse had yet to watch - Roy Mustang was saying goodbye. As the General moved away, a tear fell from his eye, landing on Edward's pale cheek.

"Thank you" was all Mustang said as he slipped out of the room, leaving the brothers alone again. Alphonse watched with a mixture of anguish and amazement as the corner of Edward's mouth twitch upward.

Within the next hour, he was dead.

* * *

A/N:

Hello, all! I'll keep this short. This is an old idea that got reworked, half-baked, slapped into a word document, and posted on the internet. At some point this is going to go somewhere because I like it and I miss writing. I'd really appreciate hearing your thoughts! Since this, as of right now, has no direction, if anyone wants to throw an opinion down or a road that they'd like to see this taken down, feel free to suggest away! We can brainstorm together. I always like to have people to bounce ideas off of, and I've been out of the fandom for so long that I don't think I have anyone right now.

I think that wraps up my thoughts. I'll try not to write too many notes in my chapters, but I like to introduce myself. It's the friendly thing to do, after all.


End file.
